


I Missed Your Warmth

by Meloncholor



Series: Arcana Thirst [6]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Butch/Femme, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering, Wall Sex, they're lesbians harold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 18:29:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21414694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meloncholor/pseuds/Meloncholor
Summary: There's a snowstorm and Monica comes to visit because she's cold.
Relationships: Apprentice/Portia Devorak
Series: Arcana Thirst [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1482008
Kudos: 28





	I Missed Your Warmth

Snow fell from the sky in heavy, cotton-like clumps, landing on the isolated cottage and blanketing it in a thick layer of white. The garden was barren for the season, spires of wood and dead vines alike litter the front path to the house. Warm orange light could be seen flickering in the windows.

Monica was bound from head to toe in heavy woolen layers, trudging through the palace garden in fur-clad boots. Her cat’s head poked out from the opening in the front of her cloak looking on his owner’s struggles with a disinterested resting glare. She marched through the snow and dead leaves with a joyful determination. The trail she blazed left deep footprints that were quickly filled with plumes of snow. Her pack swings wildly on her shoulder as the wind resists them.

“Pyro...ugh. Quit squirming!” The hairless creature wriggled underneath the dark cloak, trying to find purchase against his owner with dulled claws. Monica cups her arm around her middle, cradling the cat and forcing it to go still. The creature lets out a low meow in protest, but it barely registered over the howls of the wind. They’re both wracked with violent shivers as another gust of harsh wind blows through them. Like a lighthouse on a stormy sea, they come upon the cottage.

Portia is startled as a heavy hand raps on the door several times, nearly toppling over the pot of soup she had been stirring, casting a wary look to Pepi, who was curled atop a shelf of spices. Portia left her spoon in the pot and moved to open the door.

On the other side, Monica’s larger frame loomed in the doorway in the heaviest outerwear Portia had ever seen. The wind howled behind her, whipping snow and ice through the corners of the doorway. Pyro was snugly tucked underneath her chin, glassy orange eyes out bemusedly from the mound of fur.

“Monica?” Portia stifled a giggle. “What are you doing here?” She gestured for her to come inside, and the taller woman shouldered her way in. 

As soon as they crossed the threshold Pyro sprung out from his conflict and launched himself onto the nearest shelf, slinking behind a jar of dried sage. Pepi alerted to the presence of the other cat perked from her own position behind a lower shelf.

“I missed you.” Monica said innocently as Portia shut the door behind her, sealing out the cold air.

“Oh, Moni…” Portia cooed as she rushed over to her, helping her shed the layers upon layers of thick woolen clothes, setting them on the nearest chair, to dry out by the fire. “Where did you even get all of these cloaks?” Portia giggled again as she pulled away her thick scarf, revealing adoring seafoam green eyes. The redhead placed the garment along with Monica’s other clothes, and as soon as she turned back she was rushed by a strong pair of arms and she was assaulted with cold kisses across her cheeks and neck

“Moni! No!” She squealed with glee as she’s lifted off of the ground, the kisses unrelenting.

“But you’re so warm!” Broad hands snaked underneath the loose-fitting shirt Portia was wearing, stealing away her heat.

“AH! Your hands are s-so cold!” Portia squeals again as she’s deported back onto the floor, now a bedraggled mess. Monica’s hands retract from her shirt, and a pleased look spreads across her face.

Finally able to focus on the room around her, Monica steps back, taking a big whiff of the warm air. “What are you cooking?” She turns back to Portia, then plops down in the seat next to the one her clothes were occupying, stretching out in front of the hearth and letting the heat sink into her bones.

“Oh!” Portia claps her hands together, bounding back over to her bubbling pot of soup, quickly taking the forgotten spoon in hand and stirring wildly to upset the vegetables again. “It’s a recipe Mazelinka taught me.” She dips a finger in the broth and brings it to her lips, scrunching her face a little and reaching up behind her to grab an unnamed spice off of the shelf behind her, taking a pinch from the jar and sprinkling it generously over the top of the soup. Satisfied, she puts it back on the shelf. 

Monica sinks further into her seat as Portia focuses back on her cooking. The fire crackled in front of her soaking wet boots, and the sound of the metal spoon scraping against the bottom of the pot was a rhythm pleasant enough to fall asleep to and the apprentice mage almost obliged the call, especially since she was finally warm after nearly an hour meandering through the palace garden to get here. Jumping down from his perch, Pyro snakes his way beneath Monica’s outstretched legs, curling in on himself to hide from some unknown threat. It was comfortable.

“There,” Portia said with finality, pulling out the ladle and whizzing around the kitchen to pick up two suitable enough rags to pull the pot off of the fire and set it on a rack beside the hearth to cool. She looks up to Monica to strike up a conversation, but she had dozed off, her trusty cat wrapped into a ball underneath her legs. Her head was lolled to the side, and the occasional soft snore could be heard coming from her.

Mischief filled Portia’s eyes as she stood up, checking again to make sure she was asleep. Tiptoeing from her seat, she snuck her way over to the door creaking it open just a little, finally set free, cold wind pooled into the small room. Without stepping too far outside she crouches down and scoops up a tiny bit of snow in her palm. Failing to stifle her conspiratorial giggles, she moved behind the chair and shut the door behind her with her heel. Monica’s eyes were closed and her lips were parted as she slept unassumingly in the cushions.

In a second, freezing snow is plopped on her face and she shoots up gasping as every nerve is set alight in a freezing blaze. She whips her head around wildly as Portia nearly collapses in laughter, shaking off the bits of ice that clung to her ebony curls. When she realizes there wasn’t any actual danger, she whips around back to Portia, eyes glaring daggers.

“I-I’m sorry I-I couldn’t help it!” She doubled over, using the chair for support as she guffawed at her little joke.

“So that’s what we’re doing huh?” She let a foxish grin grace her features and practically leaped over the chair, encircling the redhead in her arms again. Squeezing her in a hug, Portia is lifted in the air as she’s helpless to the assault of kisses.

As she balances with her girlfriend in her arms, Monica ends up bumping them into the window, effectively pinning Portia there. When the moment calms, they’re left red-faced and panting from laughter, noses bumping together as they faced each other. The mage’s wide frame engulfed hers, her curls draping down and tenting them in the other’s space. They both flush when they realize the position they’re in.

With a breathy huff, Monica whispers ”You know, I’m cold again.” Her green eyes boring into bluish silver. 

Portia goes tickle-me-pink, biting her lip before replying. “I have an idea for that.”

The exchange was wordless after, Monica grinning before pulling their lips together, setting Portia’s arms free to snake her hands back underneath her shirt, groping every inch of skin she could reach. The redhead’s hands weave in the woman’s hair, pulling at the dark curls with an excitement-fueled urgency. Monica kissed her hard enough to bruise, drinking in the taste of her on her lips. Portia hooks her ankles around the other woman’s waist pulling their pelvises flush together. Monica hums with satisfaction, dipping her lips into the other woman’s collarbone, sucking a deep purple hickey with all her might. Portia mewls at her lover’s touch pulling harder on the curls. Monica’s hands dip lower, pushing down the hem of her pants, exposing soft pale thighs. Despite the roaring fire, Portia can’t help but shiver as she’s exposed to the air, going lightheaded from her fevered panting. Monica, gripping the rosy skin with a vengeance, kept leaving hickeys along her exposed collarbone. The loose shirt was pushed unceremoniously out of her way, stretching open the fabric. 

“Oh, Moni~...” Portia keened, eyes lolling back as she let herself be groped. Monica ate her up like a starving man, kneading her breasts in her wide palm, as the other hand was shoved between them, teasing at the hair between Portia’s legs. Her hips move in small circles, beckoning her inside.

With another strangled moan, two fingers slipped inside the slicked hole, curling upwards. Movements becoming feverish and erratic, the pair rocked themselves against the wall, Monica’s fingers setting an abusing pace into Portia, causing her to shiver helplessly as waves of pleasure roll through her. Monica catches her in another bruising kiss as she presses her thumb into her clit, rubbing it in tight circles, swallowing the moans and mewls Portia was giving her. Juices dripped down her legs and ass, pooling onto the wall behind her.

“Moni...I-I I’m gonna...” And her whole body tenses as she whines in the other woman’s ear, insides convulsing as she comes in the other woman’s hand and onto the floor. Her legs go limp as Monica holds her up, pulling her fingers out to keep her balance.

“Are you alright?” Monica whispers as Portia heaves out unsteady breaths.

“Y-yeah. I’m alright.” She responds, flush on her cheeks finally subsiding. A smirk splits Monica’s face as she set Portia down on wobbly legs, letting the redhead lean her weight against the taller woman. She’s dizzy from the orgasm, but Moni is solid and warm against her. 

“You wanna go again in a minute?” She growled as the other pulled her pants back up around her hips. Portia was a disheveled mess, hair messily bound in her ponytail, lips red and kiss-swollen, shirt collar stretching farther down her shoulder than it had before.

“Yes.” She says breathlessly, pulling Monica back down for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> The final installment of the Arcana Thirst series. Big fan of Portia and this was a pure self-indulgent mess, enjoy the gratuitous lady handjob.


End file.
